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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679850">Maybe That’s Just Who I Am</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialagentwoodfinch/pseuds/specialagentwoodfinch'>specialagentwoodfinch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>COVID-19, Car Sex, Coronavirus, Current era, Established Relationship, Gender Identity, Hair, Hair Braiding, M/M, Makeup, Other, Quarantine, gender questioning, they/them pronouns, vaccination</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:00:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialagentwoodfinch/pseuds/specialagentwoodfinch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of quarantine and the space you need sometimes to find yourself. Or how Frank finds out something about Gerard while in quarantine that he might never have noticed otherwise. </p><p>Current era AU</p><p>EDIT: now a THREE chapter fic!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Iero/Gerard Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Quarantine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>“Maybe I'm just fine with it<br/>Finally proud to live inside my own skin<br/>Maybe that's just who I am<br/>Maybe I'm a mess”</p><p>From I’m A Mess by Frank Iero and the Patience</p><p>This is an idea based on my experiences of living with my genderqueer partner during lockdown and the space it has given them to be themselves when they don’t have to see anybody they don’t choose to in person. </p><p>Gerard and Frank have both talked about and played with gender identity and expression in real life so it felt ok to use them as characters for this. </p><p>I hope to have done this experience justice.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank picks the black panties off their bedroom floor and wonders. He’s not jealous. There hasn’t been anyone but them in their home for weeks. It’s just interesting that being in quarantine means that you are pushed up much closer against the reality of the people in your life. And sometimes they surprise you. </p>
<p>Gerard and Frank have been together for years. They have lived together for twelve, sharing their lives between Frank’s home in Jersey and Gerard’s in Los Angeles. They like to have space of their own, to mould them to themselves. Frank’s home is bright, clean, open, functional but filled with the art, music, books and dogs he loves. Gerard’s is dark, cluttered, just as filled with art, books and music but there is an air of mystery that Frank could never claim. He is just too forthright to hide anything. And Gerard’s home has cats. Frank calls them his familiars, only half joking. When Gerard and Frank are living in Jersey, they have a housekeeper, Lynz, who lives in Gerard’s house and looks after the cats and garden. When they are in LA, Frank’s ex-girlfriend, Jamia, looks after Frank’s dogs and checks the house. They have a routine, a life together, a pattern where they follow the weather they like between the East and West coasts. </p>
<p>They can have this life because the band was so successful and, though they had stepped away from it, had deliberately broken it, they remained together. Growing more because they could be themselves together. They didn’t need to be in a band together to prove it. They could create a new band for each album they were driven to write then move on as the mood took them. They could have a solo music career and be a successful, serious comics writer with a hit TV adaptation and it did not mean they were any less together, any less in love. They could even reform the band because they wanted to do that again. Because they loved that the fans were still there, were even growing in their absence, and they wanted to play those songs again. To fulfill their own prophecy that California 2019 had meaning outside of the comic book world they had created. To wash in that tide of love. </p>
<p>But the world had had other ideas. Their one triumphant reunion show had been a total success - everything on their terms, the announcement, the show, the overwhelming fan connection and response. Even seeing that the fans had shared the show online with the world, with no filtering, deriding media in between. Then the teasing, the magical films announcing the tour dates, the plans to visit the places they loved most in the world. </p>
<p>And then news stories of a new respiratory virus. A cruise ship of people infected. And countries closing their borders, events being cancelled, people in masks and visors, infection rates and death tolls. New words and ideas. Lockdown, quarantine, social distancing, global pandemic. And like dominos all their careful plans toppled and fell. Until they realised they were stuck in LA. Couldn’t risk flying because Frank’s lungs have never been very strong. </p>
<p>So they shelter in place at Gerard’s house. Hang out with the cats and the squirrels that live in the garden. Get used to seeing friends and family on social media and Zoom calls. Work online and turn their lives inwards. Go out only for quiet woodland walks together in the bright dappled California sunlight. And think to themselves how lucky they are to be together, to have each other and to be safe.</p>
<p>Time passes. They adjust to the world they have. Gerard picks up plans for writing comics with friends that would have had to wait until after their year on tour. Frank starts recording new songs for himself and learning how to care for the turtle eggs that somehow were laid in their garden. And Frank and Gerard start recording music together for the first time in years. </p>
<p>For a strange and unusual time it is surprisingly creative, although they both experience times when the monotony, the isolation and the fear really gets to them. They respond differently. Frank gets angry, sarcastic, caustic in his words and cruel in his actions and when he realises how hurtful he has been he gets tearful and apologetic. Gerard closes down, gets insular, either sleeps all day and is awake alone at night or doesn’t speak for days at a time. Frank can sometimes reach him, maybe with touch, soft words or food. Other times he just has to watch from a distance until Gerard comes back, until the light in his eyes is visible again. </p>
<p>This is where they are now. It is May, warm and bright, and Gerard has just returned after a few days away in his head. Frank has noticed he came back quiet, not subdued, just thoughtful. Like he realised something important while he was away. And that’s when he found the panties, carelessly discarded under their bed. Frank has a sudden flash of memory. A glimpse of black lace as Gerard swiftly pulled on his old worn Slayer t-shirt before adding the layers of green that is his current outfit. It makes him shapeless, allows him to disappear. Frank knows he has always been like this. Clothes are a disguise for Gerard. Armour against an intrusive world. Costumes for characters for him to hide inside. Layers to cover his insecurities. When he finds something he likes and, more importantly, feels comfortable in, he will wear it for months or even years. Until it is worn almost to nothing and then he will find something else. </p>
<p>But that flash of black lace was something else. It was hidden and Frank is curious. Gerard doesn’t tend to keep secrets any more. He had spent a long time in recovery working on communicating, learning to tell people close to him when he needed something, when he needs outside help with his addiction and his depression. It’s why Frank trusts him to come back out of his head now. Because Frank knows Gerard can find his way out when he needs to. He can ask for help and Frank will always give it. </p>
<p>But Gerard has said nothing about the panties and the bra. So Frank will just have to wait until he is ready to speak about it. It doesn’t stop him wondering if there is a way he can show it’s ok for Gerard to speak. </p>
<p>He finds an old dress in a trunk that must have come to Gerard when an aunt of his died. It is very dark blue and covered in a pattern of white flowers. It is pretty shapeless with a low scoop neck that reveals the tattoos that loop across his collarbones. Beneath the dress, the trunk also contains a blonde curly wig, a makeup bag and black sheer stockings. While Gerard is out in the garden, Frank perches on a tall stool in their art studio having set his camera on a timer. He has put on the wig a little lopsided, inexpertly applied blue eyeshadow, black eye liner, false eyelashes and lipstick. One of the eyelashes almost immediately begins to peel away from his eyelid. He takes out his lighter, tucks one cigarette behind his ear and shoves the packet down the side of his Dr Marten boot. The timer goes off as he breathes out smoke that wraiths around his face. A few more shots and he is happy with the effect. </p>
<p>He downloads the images onto his laptop then deliberately leaves it unattended with the images scrolling on the screen while he showers, gets changed and goes to make lunch. While he is cooking he hears Gerard come in from the garden and go into the studio. Usually Gerard will make noise in there, clattering around, singing, talking to himself, playing music. But the humming abruptly comes to an end. </p>
<p>Frank goes to see what Gerard is doing. He is sitting staring out of a window, hand carding through his hair distractedly. The laptop screen is closed. </p>
<p>“I am making tacos for lunch. You want some?” </p>
<p>Gerard mutters. </p>
<p>“Gee. I don’t know what that means.”</p>
<p>Gerard looks at Frank and smiles, warmly like he has been away for a long time, but his eyes are still glassy, somewhere else. </p>
<p>“Uh. Yeah. Tacos would be great, Frankie.” </p>
<p>Frank kneels down in front of Gerard. Puts his hands either side of his softly bearded face and looks carefully into Gerard’s eyes, strokes his cheek with a thumb. </p>
<p>“You ok, Gee? You still with us?”</p>
<p>Gerard half smiles. He points at the laptop. </p>
<p>“You trying out something new, Frankie? I didn’t know you wanted to do portraits. She looks like fun.” Gerard smiles, eyes crinkling. His cheerful words and expression are rather contradicted by the shaking Frank can feel through his hands. </p>
<p>“Gee. Gee? What’s wrong?” </p>
<p>Gerard doesn’t say anything, just keeps shaking. Then fat tears begin rolling down his cheeks. Frank hops up on the sofa and pulls Gerard into a firm hug, hand smoothing Gerard’s hair. Where Gerard’s sniffling face rests on his shoulder he can feel his t-shirt begin to dampen. </p>
<p>“Gee. Sweetie. It’s ok. Whatever it is, it’s ok.” </p>
<p>Gee sniffs hard, gulps, tries to pull away but Frank isn’t having any of that. </p>
<p>“I’m fine. Nothing wrong at all,” Gerard croaks. </p>
<p>“Na uh, mister. No covering up here. You know how this works. We do honesty. I know it hurts darling but we share it, even the hard stuff. C’mon, spill. What’s going on? You worrying about Mikey again?” </p>
<p>“I always worry about Mikey,” says a quiet voice. </p>
<p>“Yeah you do. Cos you’re a great big brother. This weird world is difficult for all of us right now. Ok. But I know this is more than that. Those pictures wouldn’t usually bother you. C’mon Gee. Why does me dressing up like your great aunt Francesca bother you so much?” </p>
<p>“I don’t have a great aunt Francesca,” a bitchy voice remarks. </p>
<p>“I know you don’t. Quit deflecting. What’s up sweetie?” </p>
<p>Gerard hums then in a tiny voice says, “you’re always so confident, Frankie. How do you do that? You just put on this new person and you still look like yourself, like you’re not trying. You’re just so comfortable in your skin.” </p>
<p>Frank grins. “You know that’s not entirely true. You know how anxious I get.” </p>
<p>Gerard pulls out of the hug a bit, smooths his hair, bites his nails. “Yeah. But you look so comfortable in there, in your body, like it’s yours and you know how it works and it all makes sense. It fits you.” </p>
<p>“And you don’t? Feel comfortable in there, I mean?” Frank hints carefully. He doesn’t look at Gerard’s face, just reaches out, interlinks their fingers, strokes knuckles with his thumb. </p>
<p>“You know I don’t. You have seen me.” </p>
<p>Frank has seen. He has seen the weight gain and loss, the self-hatred, the fear, the self-disgust. He has tried so many times to help Gerard see how beautiful he is but he has always been hard to convince and, at times, hated being touched. </p>
<p>“I have. But there’s more, isn’t there?” </p>
<p>Gerard sighs. “Uh. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t really understand it yet.” </p>
<p>“Ok. Try me.” </p>
<p>“Pushy.” </p>
<p>“Yeah. But it’s because I can see it’s eating you up. Maybe I can help. At least give me a chance.” </p>
<p>“You’re too good to me, Frankie.” </p>
<p>“No. Hey. None of that. I am as good as you deserve. C’mon. What’s going on in that wonderfully odd brain of yours?”</p>
<p>“You remember I told you about going to SVA in drag?” </p>
<p>“Yeah. The experiment.” </p>
<p>“That’s it. How I got this insight into how men behave to women, how they are valued for their looks not their ideas or their intellect.” </p>
<p>“Yeah. Patriarchy in action, you said.” </p>
<p>“That’s it.” </p>
<p>Frank waits. He knows sometimes these thoughts need time to come out. He thinks about the tacos and is glad he had the foresight to put them in the fridge. This is going to take a while and when Gerard starts talking he needs to be uninterrupted. </p>
<p>“Is it wrong of me to want to do that again?” </p>
<p>“Want to go to SVA in drag? I don’t think they’re open.” </p>
<p>“Asshole. No. Not to SVA.” </p>
<p>Frank nudges Gerard’s knee and giggles. </p>
<p>“I mean is it wrong of me to want to dress up again? To wear women’s clothes again.” </p>
<p>“Gee.” </p>
<p>“Yeah?” </p>
<p>“That really depends, doesn’t it?” </p>
<p>“On what?”</p>
<p>“On why you would be doing it.” </p>
<p>Gerard is quiet again, shoves a hand into his hair, rubs an eye until it is pink. </p>
<p>Then a little voice says, “I don’t want it to be drag. I want it to be me.” </p>
<p>Frank looks up sharply at Gerard. He is staring at his jeans like they hold the answer to the mysteries of the universe. Frank squeezes his hand. </p>
<p>“Ok. What would that mean to you?” </p>
<p>Gerard sighs. </p>
<p>“I don’t really know yet. I… just. I tried something and it seems to help but I don’t know what it means.” </p>
<p>“The bra and panties?” Frank nudges carefully. </p>
<p>Gerard tenses. “You know about that?”</p>
<p>“Can’t get anything past me, sweetie. Go on. Tell me what happened.” </p>
<p>“I was thinking about when we get to tour again and costumes.” </p>
<p>“I thought we’d decided we weren’t doing costumes this time, just wearing what we feel most comfortable in, what sums up how we feel about the band best.” </p>
<p>“Yeah. And to me that still means a costume, a character to play. I can’t go up there as me. It’s too exposing. I’m too boring and small otherwise. So I was wondering who I could be. Then I just had this picture of myself on stage. I looked so pretty. I was wearing a black dress, stockings and black DMs, like yours in those pictures. And it occurred to me. I felt … happy. Not just happy. Uh. I felt relaxed. Like I was myself. It wasn’t a costume. That was the weirdest thing. Even now I feel like I am wearing someone else’s clothes. But when I was thinking about being her it felt more right. More comfortable than I have felt in … well … forever.” </p>
<p>Gerard breathes. Frank just keeps running his thumb gently across knuckles. He doesn’t want to break Gerard’s concentration now he has started. </p>
<p>“Then I realised there is a her in here. I know I have talked about other people seeing me as a girl, especially when I was a kid. But I always thought that was them, reading my gender from what they see of me. You know, round face, eyelashes, hips. I just took on what people told me I am. But when I actually asked myself what is my gender, looked around inside myself I couldn’t honestly say I am a man. I don’t know that I can 100% say I am a woman either but I am definitely not exactly a man. Isn’t that weird? I think that’s weird.” </p>
<p>Frank squeezes his hand and smiles. “I love your weird.” </p>
<p>“This is ok?” </p>
<p>“Of course. I love all of you. And the bra and panties?” </p>
<p>“I thought I would try. Where no-one can see. Just try them out and find out if anything changes.” </p>
<p>“And?” </p>
<p>“Shit Frankie. It feels amazing. It feels so right. I just knew as soon as I started wearing them that something was different. That I relaxed somehow. But it’s scary too. You know what it’s like for trans people. We’ve met so many fans. You know they talk about how hard it is. You remember how tough Laura had to be.”</p>
<p>“I do. But isn’t doing nothing harder?” </p>
<p>“God yes.” Gerard sighs. “Did you say something about tacos? I am so hungry.”</p>
<p>And like that the conversation ends. </p>
<p>Although, later, after they have eaten and Frank is washing their dishes, Gerard slides his arms around Frank’s waist and hugs his back. He whispers, “thanks Frankie” into his ear then wanders back into the studio singing Another One Bites The Dust off key. </p>
<p>*****      *****     *****</p>
<p>And their days pass like this. Gerard is wearing a black padded lace bra and matching panties under his clothes a lot of the time and Frank, mostly, says nothing. Just smiles. And sometimes Gerard is wearing a knee length black jersey skirt on Zoom calls with his friends, playing D&amp;D, or working with his comic collaborators or chatting with Mikey. Where he would have been wearing his Star Wars pyjama pants out of shot, there is this skirt sometimes. And he just looks … relaxed. Happy. So Frank says nothing and waits to see if Gerard needs to talk about it. </p>
<p>At night, they cuddle mostly. Gerard hasn’t seemed in the mood for sex much and when he has, it has all been for Frank, Gerard’s mouth and hands. If Frank tries to reciprocate, Gerard just freezes up and says “stop” in a quiet voice and Frank does. He just kisses Gerard’s face and strokes his hair and they breathe slowly together until Frank falls asleep. Gerard lies awake staring into the distance, thinking. </p>
<p>One night in bed, Frank puts down the book he has been reading and lies on his back. His fingers walk across the bed and gently bump Gerard’s. </p>
<p>“You ok?” </p>
<p>“Mmm?” Gerard’s attention is pulled back from the thousand yard stare he has been perfecting. </p>
<p>“You fancy a cuddle or anything?” </p>
<p>“What are you offering, Frank?” </p>
<p>“Don’t know. Do you want to see the menu?” </p>
<p>Gerard snorts and Frank grins secretively. He wants to know what’s up with Gerard not wanting to be touched but he doesn’t want to ask outright. That’s not the best way to approach Gerard when he’s working through something. So laughter is the best start. </p>
<p>“Which one is on offer? The fancy restaurant or the 24 hour diner?” Gerard replies lightly. </p>
<p>“Whichever sir would prefer,” says Frank in his poshest waiter voice. </p>
<p>Gerard goes silent. Frank swears internally. He is not sure what he said wrong. And then it hits him. </p>
<p>“Or would madam prefer something a little different?” Gerard gasps and swallows. Frank squeezes his hand and the squeeze he gets in return nearly crushed his fingers. </p>
<p>“Hey! Careful with my strumming hand.” </p>
<p>“Sorry.”</p>
<p>There is silence for a moment. </p>
<p>“Madam would like the diner menu please,” a tentative voice asks. </p>
<p>Frank smiles. Then explains he doesn’t really know what that means. </p>
<p>“If you just want to cuddle that’s cool. I just wondered if you wanted me to do anything differently because … you know.” He trails off, not sure what to suggest. </p>
<p>Gerard thinks, then takes his hand and places it on his chest. Frank flexes his fingers and feels the padding in Gerard’s bra forming a softly rounded shape on his chest. He looks up at Gerard. He is staring at the ceiling and breathing deeply. Carefully, but with a firm touch so Gerard is not surprised by anything he is doing, Frank runs his fingers down the soft old Motörhead t-shirt Gerard is wearing and grips the hem. He pulls it up slowly and Gerard wriggles to help him. He tugs until Gerard’s chest is exposed and Frank traces the outline of the pretty black bra that Gerard is wearing. He slides his hand to gently cup one of the padding breasts and Gerard exhales slowly. </p>
<p>“Is this ok?” Frank asks carefully and Gerard nods. Frank rubs his fingers across Gerard’s chest and then leans in to nuzzle his face against the softness there. Gerard sighs contentedly so Frank continues, gently rubbing and nuzzling. </p>
<p>Then Gerard pushes Frank off. But rather than rolling away and curling into a defensive ball like Frank fears, he takes off the t-shirt and bra, lies back and takes Frank’s hand in his. He directs his index finger to gently circle his nipple. Frank continues, then, checking if it’s ok with a look flashed up at Gerard’s eyes, he gently pinches and rolls the nipple between his fingers. Gerard’s breath hitches but he does not tense so Frank continues to rub and roll, tease and pinch. Then he dips his head and gently kisses where his fingers have been. </p>
<p>Gerard moans. </p>
<p>That’s new. Usually Gerard gets tense when his chest is touched, shoves Frank away quickly. But this is so different. Frank glances up and all he can see is Gerard’s throat and the grey-brown hairs curling under his chin. Frank snuggles back against Gerard’s chest and licks, swirls his tongue around the hardening nub, latches on to suck and carefully nips. Gerard is panting now, groaning. </p>
<p>Frank’s hand slides down Gerard’s belly to stroke his cock but finds Gerard’s hand is there already, jerking himself vigorously. So he slides his hand further to stroke and cup his balls and scratch, tickle and rub behind them encouragingly. He licks and sucks, increasing the force on the nipple until Gerard moans long and loud. Frank can feel come splatter on his upper arm and he smiles. He gradually loosens the suction on Gerard’s nipple until it gently pops from his mouth. He kisses it delicately and draws Gerard to him in a sticky hug. Gerard sighs, more relaxed than Frank has felt him in months. </p>
<p>“Sorry about the lousy metaphor.” </p>
<p>Gerard giggles and pokes Frank in the side. </p>
<p>“Not a problem. Sorry for being weird about this. I know I am hard to talk to right now about this stuff. But thank you. That was …” </p>
<p>“Surprisingly good?” </p>
<p>“Yeah. I feel … like something has changed.” </p>
<p>“It felt like you liked me touching your chest …” </p>
<p>“God yes.” Gerard sighs and Frank smiles. They fall asleep like this, entangled, closer than they have been in weeks. </p>
<p>*****    *****     ***** </p>
<p>And time passes like this. Spring turns to summer, then while they are taking each day as it comes autumn arrives. Even in the California heat and a particularly vicious wildfire season, Gerard continues to tend the garden in a long dress, like a bearded Anna Madrigal. He looks and acts the same on video calls but around the house he is as often in a skirt or dress as he is in jeans. He has stopped dyeing his hair because his hair was fucked from years of bleach and other abuse. He liked the silvery-grey threaded mouse brown that appeared when the dyeing stopped. And he starts painting his nails again. He only ever used black before but now he like to experiment. Silver, teal, green, washes of opalescent white and mermaids tail green-blue all appear and then disappear a couple of days later. </p>
<p>Frank watches his experimentation with bemused affection. The whole thing just seems to make Gerard happy. And it occurs to Frank that this weird time, this distance from everyday life and those who would pressure him to appear a certain way, has been a rare and valuable thing for Gerard. And something it would never have occurred to them to make space for. An unintended positive consequence of a global catastrophe. There seem to be precious few of those.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Makeup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Who are you right now?” Frank enquires, tentatively. </p><p>“I’m me.” Gerard puts on his thick framed glasses and starts to examine the detail on a skeleton it looks like he has just painted.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the second trip into the house, his arms piled high with bags and boxes from the car, Frank trips over something. </p><p>He pulls off his Joy Division mask and drops it with the pile of parcels. A cupboard is open and boxes of photographs, zines and fan art have spilled across the floor in the room they usually use for storage in Gerard’s house. Frank was going to hide Christmas presents there, away from Gerard’s acute gaze. He sighs. That probably won’t work if Gerard’s attention is drawn to this room at the moment. </p><p>He idly wonders what new thing Gerard might be fixed on right now as he tidies everything back into the cupboard. He has been working hard on the two comics he is writing with Shaun recently but these are coming to an end soon and Frank has been wondering where his attention might land next. Gerard can get a little unsettled when he doesn’t have a clear plan. He sometimes gets what Frank calls scattered. His attention everywhere so sometimes he forgets where he is located, loses sight of where the centre of himself is. </p><p>Frank gets the last of the Christmas gifts from the car and decides to move everything into the studio. Though Gerard is often in there making music, he only uses certain guitars and equipment so there is storage there that he never goes in. Frank grins, internally congratulating himself on his own cleverness. </p><p>Then he goes to the bathroom to wash his hands, humming Welcome to the Black Parade to himself. As he scrubs his hands, he notices there is soap scum around the edge of the sink with little fragments of curling grey and brown hair, cut blunt at one end, caught in it. </p><p>Gerard must have shaved his beard off. </p><p>He could have just trimmed it. He does sometimes but there is usually less in the sink. And Frank has sensed that shift in his mood. He has felt Gerard itching to try something new. </p><p>So Frank goes to find Gerard. The house isn’t that big that it will take him hours but he knows he won’t find him in the places that have been his regular haunts recently, like his office or the room at the back that has the best afternoon light that they use as an art studio. Eventually Frank’s finest tracker skills lead him to their backyard and the wooden table and chairs arranged under a leafless winter tree. </p><p>When Gerard’s eyes flick up at Frank from the role-playing figures he is painting, they are more delicate and warm than usual. The lashes are accented with mascara. His distinctive eyebrows subtly darkened. He has smudged a fine line of black along his upper and lower lids and gently blended deep brown, amber and forest green shadow across the lid in a way that makes his hazel irises sing. His skin has been softened with foundation and a light dusting of powder that only barely perceptibly shimmers in the low California winter sun. And his lips are painted a subtle amber pink that makes Frank want to kiss them, slow and pillow soft. </p><p>“Hey Gee. You looking pretty.”</p><p>Gerard grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. </p><p>“Oh yeah. What makes me prettier than usual? You holding me to a patriarchal standard of beauty?”</p><p>Frank holds up his hands. </p><p>“As if I’d dare.”</p><p>Gerard chuckles and catches one of Frank’s hands and brings it to his lips. They delicately brush across the Hopeless broken heart tattoo and Frank shivers a little. </p><p>And he realises he has never seen Gerard like this. </p><p>He has seen him wear makeup before. Of course he has. There have been years of their life together when it was an everyday occurrence to wake up in a van, a tour bus, a hotel room, with last night’s eyeliner and shadow smeared across his face. Staining whatever he has rested his face on to sleep, including his own belly or chest sometimes. Gerard had never been very good at the washing it off at the end of the day part of wearing makeup. So Frank is very familiar with Gerard making his face yet another canvas for his art. </p><p>But this time it isn’t stage makeup. It isn’t even photoshoot or award ceremony makeup. He doesn’t look alien or skeleton like. There is no black or blue bar across his eyes or deep sunken red or brown eyes. He hasn’t caked his face in flour or added bruises, blood or knife slashes to his skin. </p><p>It is just him, accentuated with hints of colour and shape, rough edges smoothed. </p><p>“So … uh,” Frank struggles for the right kind of question. </p><p>Gerard hums. </p><p>“Who are you right now?” Frank enquires, tentatively. </p><p>“I’m me.” Gerard puts on his thick framed glasses and starts to examine the detail on a skeleton it looks like he has just painted. </p><p>“Ok.” So that didn’t work. Frank tries another tactic. “I love what you have done with that eyeshadow.”</p><p>“Hmm. Yeah. I was experimenting with colours from the garden.” Gerard says, attention mostly on the tiny metal figure. </p><p>So flattery won’t work either. Frank goes to Gerard’s side, squats down and rests both hands gently on his thigh and looks up. The softness of Gerard’s freshly shaved and subtly powdered cheek is so inviting. He would really like to kiss it but Frank is wary of unsettling him. He can be quite skittish in this kind of distracted and exploring mood. </p><p>So he just gently rubs his thumb across Gerard’s thigh. The fabric of his black denim skirt is surprisingly soft. He can feel Gerard’s muscles shift and relax under his hands. </p><p>“Frank.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Frank hadn’t noticed Gerard had stopped examining the figures and was now looking at him intently. </p><p>“This isn’t a mystery. I am just trying something out. You don’t have to solve the puzzle. Ask me a direct question.”</p><p>“Ok. What are you trying?” </p><p>“I am trying to learn what makeup suits me.”</p><p>“Uh?” </p><p>“Very articulate, Frank.” Gerard grins, tiny teeth glinting wolfishly. </p><p>“Hey asshole!” </p><p>“Ok. Ok. Sorry, I am just teasing.”</p><p>Frank pokes his tongue out. </p><p>“Very mature.” </p><p>Gerard grasps at Frank’s hand and tugs until they are both standing, eye to eye. </p><p>“Ok. Look, you know I have always liked makeup.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“But it was always about art, about characters.”</p><p>“Totally. And masks to hide behind.”</p><p>“Yeah. That too,” Gerard looks at Frank sharply. Frank knows him too well to think that won’t come up. “But the only way I have never worn makeup is for me. I have never had a chance to find out what I would look like if I had started my life as a girl. If I hadn’t had to use art and performance as an excuse. If I could just get up in the morning and choose the look I wanted for the day and that would just be ordinary everyday me, reinventing myself like people usually do. To not be “musician, writer and artist Gerard Way” with new hair and a new look so that journalists ask me to give meaning to it, connected to whatever album we’re promoting. To be myself. Just me.”</p><p>“Cool. So have you found it?”</p><p>“Give me a chance. It is my first try.”</p><p>“And you look beautiful.” Gerard blushes, high on his round apple cheeks. </p><p>“Thanks, Frankie.”</p><p>“I want to kiss you but I’m afraid I will muss you up.” </p><p>“You are welcome to muss me anytime, baby.” </p><p>And there he is, stage Gerard looking him straight in the eye, hip cocked, defiant and comfortable in his body. </p><p>“That is a look that needs a feather boa to pull off, sweetheart.” Frank delivers the “sweetheart” through his teeth like Humphrey Bogart. Two can play at that game, he thinks. </p><p>“C’mere and I’ll prove you wrong, baby.”</p><p>Frank is pulled into an unexpectedly hot, lingering, sliding kiss that leaves his heart pounding, hair rumpled and cheeks flushed. Gerard pulls back a little and looks pleased, with kiss bruised lips and a wicked grin. </p><p>“You irresistible fucker.” </p><p>Frank is impressed by this growing confidence. Gerard’s time experimenting and exploring seems to have resulted in a sassy tone that grabs Frank right in the gut. And a weird thing occurs to him. This stage Gerard was a part of him all along. Of course, that’s obvious isn’t it? How could it not be part of him. And yet, maybe, those two ends of the spectrum were never that far apart. </p><p>“Great to see everyday me turns you on so much, Frankie.”</p><p>“Always, Gee, always. Whoever you are.” </p><p>Frank pulls Gerard back to him and kisses him softly this time, tenderly stroking his powdersoft cheek. Gerard sighs and relaxes just a little.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I thought this story was already pretty much perfect. Then I woke up this morning with an idea for a little follow up chapter about Gerard renegotiating his relationship with makeup. </p><p>So here we are. I hope you like it.</p><p>EDIT: so within a week of writing and posting this it looks like MCR are releasing their own makeup collection. I have no idea what that means but the coincidence is amusing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Frank does Gerard’s hair before they go out. </p><p>Current era AU</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Back for a third chapter!</p><p>I couldn’t resist the allure of this world. They are just so loving and kind and everything else I have written recently has been so serious. I just wanted to visit and make sure they’re still ok. </p><p>Content warning for homophobia/ transphobia</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Neither of them can believe it’s been over a year and they are still living at Gerard’s house. They haven’t been able to fly back to Jersey to visit Frank’s dogs and Frank is struggling with just seeing them on Zoom calls. He misses their smelly, drooly mouths and their heavy paws. Cats just aren’t the same with their pissy attitudes and tiny, clawy feet.</p><p>They have just had to announce that the tour has been postponed for another year. It was inevitable, things are nowhere near right enough to leave the country, let alone travel to all the places where there are fans desperate to see them. So they tear up the old dates and work on new ones.</p><p>The one thing that helps is making music. Neither of them had wanted to make music together at first. They would mess around with old songs, play covers but songwriting had been a solitary occupation. They hadn’t spoken about it but they just didn’t write songs together.</p><p>Frank went to be vaccinated. His crappy lungs and immunity were always going to put him higher up the list than Gerard. A situation that Gerard, for all their desire to move on from this solitary existence, was glad to support.</p><p>“You’re just afraid of the needle going in your arm,” Frank teases.</p><p>Gerard glares through long mascara’d lashes.</p><p>“I am not. I just don’t think I should use what fame I have to jump the queue. It is immoral,” they conclude prissily.</p><p>Frank snorts. He tries not to make fun of Gerard in this mood, he really does, but the haughty air is hilarious and he can’t help wanting to tease more out of them.</p><p>“Why not, Gee? Surely you are more important. Maybe they need to use a gold needle to show how precious you are.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Frank. I’m serious.”</p><p>“I know you are. That’s why it’s so funny. And I know that’s not the reason you haven’t asked for earlier vaccination.”</p><p>Gerard huffs.</p><p>“I am not a sulky child, Frank. You know it’s the right thing to do.”</p><p>Frank sidles up to Gerard, slides his arms around their waist and whispers in their ear, “you know they will use needles whenever you have it?”</p><p>He can feel Gerard’s body shudder.<br/>
“I know,” they whisper. “I want to have it. I am just not ready yet.”</p><p>Gerard turns their head and peers at where the bandaid on Frank’s upper arm is just peeking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt.</p><p>“Did it hurt?”</p><p>Frank grins wide.</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>“A lot?” Gerard chews their lip thoughtfully.</p><p>“Gee. Think about that for a moment.”</p><p>“What?” Gerard asks, confused.</p><p>“You sweet dumbass. I have needles sticking in my arm all the time. They don’t bother me. I had to get the nurse to find a space for the injection so she didn’t ruin any of my ink. I barely noticed it.”</p><p>Gerard giggles but he still has an annoyed spark in his eye.</p><p>“You are so tough, aren’t you Frankie?”</p><p>“Sure am, babe,” Frank growls with a grin.</p><p>“Must be some other guy I see with tears in their eyes when they get off Zoom with Jamia and the dogs then,” Gerard teases.</p><p>“Totally different guy.”</p><p>Frank sighs.</p><p>“I miss them so much.”</p><p>“I know you do, precious. And that’s why we need to do this. We need to get our lives back, but we need to do it right so everyone is safe.”</p><p>Afterwards, without discussion, they find themselves in their music room. They work on old songs first, a couple of favourite covers, then Gerard starts singing words he had scribbled down. Frank follows with a riff and soon there’s the shape of … something.</p><p>After a few hours just exploring ideas, Frank goes to the kitchen to make a Thai curry for their lunch. They eat in the garden for the first time in months because the weather is beginning to get warmer. After Frank has cleared the plates away, Gerard is sketching at the little table by the plum tree. The blossom is beginning to fall, making the garden look like snow has been settling in the spring sunlight.</p><p>He places a cup of fruit tea by Gerard’s arm and watches as they draw lines that become branches and swirls that become flowers.</p><p>“That’s lovely, Gee,” he breathes and pats their arm.</p><p>“Mmm.”</p><p>Frank watches Gerard draw, mesmerised. His hand drifts to their t-shirt clad shoulder and starts tangling his fingers in their hair.</p><p>“This is getting long,” Frank murmurs. He fingercombs the slightly oily strands that are beginning to curl down Gerard’s back. There are a few more silver grey ones sparkling in the light amidst the brown than there were last year, especially from around their temples.</p><p>Once he has a smooth sheen of hair tumbling down Gerard’s back he gently draws it together into a ponytail, digs his fingers carefully across their scalp to make the hair smooth and even. Then separates the hair into three sections and begins to braid it. His nimble, colourful fingers quickly form a smooth plaited length. He turns it over in the light to admire the even pattern, then he has an idea. He combs through with his fingers to the ends again until the whole braid has gone, then strolls back into the house.</p><p>A few minutes later he returns with a hairbrush, clips and a hairband. He places the clips on the table, pulls the hairband over his knuckles and begins to brush Gerard’s hair. The sounds of birds calling and the warm breeze make Frank feel warm and relaxed as he works.</p><p>He is almost meditating in the simple movement of brushing so it takes him a moment to realise that the low, guttural sound he can hear is Gerard moaning quietly.</p><p>“You ok with this, Gee?”</p><p>“Mmmm, please.”</p><p>Frank smiles, tiny and secret. He knows Gerard loves having their hair played with. He wouldn’t have had so many different styles and colours in his life if he hadn’t enjoyed the sensation of fingers and brushes in their hair.</p><p>“Good. Do you mind if I try something?”</p><p>“Please,” they whisper.</p><p>So Frank continues to brush in long smooth strokes until Gerard’s hair gleams in the warm, hazy sun. Then he uses the brush to section off hair at the side from their right temple around to behind their right ear.</p><p>“You know I could give you an undercut again, Gee? Would you like that? It would be cooler for the summer.”</p><p>Gerard considers.</p><p>“I don’t know. I used to like that with the red but it might be a bit … uh … masculine for me right now.”</p><p>Frank hums his agreement and clips the main section of hair away from the strands he has combed away from the rest. He divides the smaller section into three and begins to plait. The braid is much thinner this time but still neat and regular and sits close along their hairline then trails down their neck and over their shoulder.</p><p>He secures the end with the hairband and smoothes the rest of Gerard’s hair around it. He squints, tilts his head, wonders.</p><p>Then he reaches up and grabs one of the plum tree branches and plucks the white-pink blossom. He tucks individual tiny blooms along the braided hairline. And smiles. He moves so he can see Gerard’s face, cups their cheek and tilts their head for the best view.</p><p>“Look at you, all pretty.”</p><p>Gerard blushes and flashes a tiny half smile. Their long fingers reach out and touch the braiding and the flowers, carefully feeling how regular and dainty they are.</p><p>“That’s lovely, Frankie. Thank you.”</p><p>Frank leans down and presses a soft kiss to their lips.</p><p>*****</p><p>“Do you want to go for a walk, Gee”</p><p>Frank’s spring mood is making him restless.</p><p>“We could go up on that trail in the hills? You know, the one by the orange groves. I bet the view from up there would be beautiful right now.”</p><p>“Do you think it will be busy?” Gerard asks, quietly.</p><p>“Not too busy, I think. It’s a weekday. It should be peaceful. Why? Are crowds still getting to you? You should be ok and you can wear a mask if you want.”</p><p>“No. It’s … never mind.” Gerard wanders off towards their bedroom. Frank watches and wonders. Has he missed something? Gerard has been doing really well recently with staying in the world, taking meds and talking to their therapist. And they seem to be so comfortable at home wearing their dresses and skirts and trying out new makeup techniques. Frank has never really seen him this at ease in himself. But that’s been in the house, away from eyes that judge or question.</p><p>Eventually they appear wearing a short summer dress, an unzipped black hoodie and Dr Martens. The flowers braided into their hair compliment the soft stretchy fabric of the dress with its red roses on a black background, A mask made of the same fabric as the dress swings from their fingertips. Frank clasps their hand and draws them close for a kiss.</p><p>“I love you, Gee,” he breathes and Gerard blinks and smiles. They squeeze Frank’s hand and rest their head on his shoulder.</p><p>“You sure you’re ok going out?”</p><p>“Mmmm. Yeah,” Gerard says but Frank still isn’t convinced.</p><p>“Sweetie, please. I know there’s something. If you don’t want to do this you only have to say.”</p><p>Gerard sighs.</p><p>“I want to go. I really do. I just … It’s been so easy here, y’know. With you being … Frankie, you’ve been so kind and made me feel so safe and like I am not a fool for doing this.” They pluck at their skirt shyly and Frank grins, sweet, and nods. “But out there is different, isn’t it?”</p><p>They go quiet for a moment and their eyes flicker closed. Frank waits it out. He knows they’ll get there when they’re ready.</p><p>“And it’s not really that I am worried about what people will say. You know I have dealt with shit about not being masculine enough for years. I can deal with most of that. It’s just … at the moment this is me. And you. And all it will take is one person with a phone to take a picture and suddenly it’s the whole world and they have opinions and think they know me better than I do myself. You saw what happened to Elliot. He’s been so strong but he still gets a lot of hassle. You get that, don’t you?”</p><p>“I do. I really do. I just …” Frank tries to choose his words carefully again, not wanting to derail this conversation since Gerard is being so honest. “I think … that’s not a good reason to lose this. You have done so much recently, become so much more you. I am so proud of you. I don’t want them, the world, to spoil that. Those assholes don’t deserve that much respect.”</p><p>“They’re not all assholes, Frank.”</p><p>“No. I know. I am just thinking about the ones who tell you who you are, what you should do, how you should show that you care. They can fuck off. You are perfect already.”</p><p>Gerard pulls on Frank’s hand and catches his eye, kisses him deep and slow.</p><p>“No-one can get to me with you around, can they?”</p><p>“Nope.” Frank kisses Gerard on the nose and they giggle. “You ready to go?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>*****</p><p>They return to Gerard’s car, breathless, hearts thumping, sweaty hands clinging together.</p><p>“Fuck. Gee. Are you ok?” Frank pants.</p><p>Gerard doesn’t answer as they pull keys out of their hoodie pocket, unlock the car and climb in. Frank runs around the other side, hops in and slams his door.</p><p>Gerard is staring down into his lap, breathing hard. Chest heaving and hands twisting.</p><p>“Gee. Gerard. Are you ok?” Frank’s tone is more serious, worried. He places a hand carefully on Gerard’s arm and they jump like they didn’t know he was there.</p><p>“Oh Frankie. Sorry. Yes. I’m fine. I just … wow. That was a lot. I …”</p><p>Frank pulls Gerard into a hug as their breathing slows.</p><p>They had got to the trail late in the afternoon, shadows already beginning to lengthen but the day still glowed warm in the April sunshine.</p><p>There were very few people around so they walked at their own pace, hand in hand in the dappled sunlight under the trees.</p><p>Occasionally a dog would run up to them and Frank would beam, squatting down and offering a hand to sniff at and sometimes slobber on him in greeting. Gerard would smile indulgently and squeeze his hand when the dog bounded away.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Gerard declared after a while.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“You give up so much to be here with me. And we’re so far away from your dogs. I sometimes wonder if you would have preferred that we had had to quarantine at your home in Jersey.”</p><p>Frank sighed.</p><p>“Gee. You know that’s not true, don’t you? I haven’t given up anything to be with you. Yes, I miss my dogs. I really do. I miss Jersey too. But wherever I am with you is home. Right now, in all this weirdness, there isn’t anywhere I would rather be.”</p><p>Gerard glanced at Frank, smirking.</p><p>“You really are soppy, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Shhhh. Don’t tell.”</p><p>Gerard tugged on Frank’s arm and pulled him into a kiss, embraced in warmth. They must have been there for a while because when they broke apart, resting their foreheads together to smile goofily at each other, there was a man on the path.</p><p>He was getting close and the path was narrow. He looked like he was out for a run or doing physical training because he was wearing running gear and is seriously muscular. He was smiling in greeting as he came towards them, like people do when they’re out in the countryside.</p><p>But they both saw the moment his attitude flipped.</p><p>As he walked closer his eyes suddenly narrowed. The muscles in his neck clenched and his hands balled into fists.</p><p>“Fuckin’ queers,” he grunted.</p><p>“Yeah. So?” Frank snapped back, sharp, quick.</p><p>“So you can fuck off. Get out of my way,” the man growled. “That … thing,” he spat out, staring at Gerard, “shouldn’t be allowed out where it can corrupt children.”</p><p>“You fucking dare go anywhere near them.”</p><p>Frank knew he should be calmer, try not to provoke, but there was no way he was going to let the guy get near Gerard. He stared up. The guy had at least six inches on him in height. He should have been intimidated but he really wasn’t. It wasn’t the first time he has stood up for Gerard with his fists and he was not planning on stopping any time soon.</p><p>“I will go where I like.” The man got closer, towered over them, so they could smell his alkaline stink of sweat.</p><p>“So do we,” Frank grunted, drawing his fingers into fists. Staring him out. Preparing.</p><p>Then the man crumpled.</p><p>Folded in on himself. And Frank felt a sharp pull on his arm.</p><p>“Run!”</p><p>Then he and Gerard were running back down the path, gasping and giggling. Feet clattering and slipping over rocks and stones. Eventually they stopped to bend over and heave breath into raw throats and lungs.</p><p>“What the … what the fuck … did you do … uh … Gee? Fuck!” Frank managed to gasp out.</p><p>“Punched him in the dick ... while you were doing … uh … your heavyweight boxer weigh-in routine.”</p><p>“Gerard Way. You are a surprise every fucking day.”</p><p>“Write me a song about it.”</p><p>There was a crash in the woods behind them and they started running for the car again.</p><p>As they cuddle and breathe in the air conditioned hum of the car, Gerard asks, “Is that how it’s going to be every time I go out now?”</p><p>Frank pulls back to look carefully at them.</p><p>“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare use this as an excuse to hide. You have as much right to be here, to be yourself out in the world as anyone else does.”</p><p>“I know that. I just .., You don’t need to do this for me. I am prepared to stick up for myself too. Who was it that punched him in the dick?”</p><p>“And who distracted him so he wasn’t expecting you to punch him in the dick?”</p><p>“Your point is?”</p><p>“We’re a team. You don’t have to deal with this on your own.”</p><p>“Are you sure? I mean, this is my thing. You don’t have to …”</p><p>“Shhh.” Frank puts a finger over Gerard’s lips. “Shut up before you say anything stupid. We’re a team. We’re partners. What’s important to you is important to me. As simple and complicated as that.”</p><p>Under his finger, Frank can feel Gerard smiling.</p><p>“C’mon. Let’s get moving in case he shows up here. You ok to drive?”</p><p>“Definitely,” Gerard smiles, already reversing out of the space in the parking lot. “You fancy a coffee?”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>When they reach the nearest Starbucks and park, Frank kisses Gerard on the cheek quickly and jumps out. He has an idea. When he gets back in with iced coffee, he gives Gerard a few directions on where to drive. As they climb into the hills, Frank suggests a turn onto a quiet track.</p><p>“If I didn’t know you were a pussycat I would be worried you were going to murder me.”</p><p>“You’re quite safe with me, Gee. You know that. It’s the homophobic and transphobic jerks that have something to fear.”</p><p>Gerard hums, sucks on the straw in his frappe thoughtfully.</p><p>“You ok, Gee?”</p><p>“Yeah. Just … you don’t have to do that, y’know, defend me. I can manage.”</p><p>“I know. You just proved it with a neat rabbit punch in the dick. But I just … feel like I need to protect you. It’s weird.”</p><p>“Is it because of the whole feminine thing?”</p><p>“No. I mean, yeah. Maybe. A bit. I know I don’t need to and I really shouldn’t. I just. Fuck. I don’t know. I do know the world has another excuse to be shitty to you and I feel like it’s my job to stop that.”</p><p>“Ok. I get that. Let’s just say it’s our job and move on. I want to forget about that asshole.”</p><p>“I’m glad you said that, Gee. That brings me to why we’re parked up in a remote forest.”</p><p>A grin creeps across Gerard’s face.</p><p>“There you are. You wanna get in the back, put the seats down? I got blankets back there. We could get comfy.”</p><p>“Frankie,” Gerard breathes. “You have the naughtiest ideas. But …”</p><p>“No-one comes here. It’s fine. And we have tinted windows in the back. No-one will see us.”</p><p>“Ok. But do you have …?”</p><p>“Lube?” Frank interrupts. “In the back.”</p><p>“Frankie! Have you been planning this?”</p><p>“No. Well. Maybe. A bit. I just left a few things in the trunk in case.”</p><p>“Frank Anthony Iero. You are …”</p><p>“What?” Frank pushes himself right over the centre console and presses his nose against Gerard’s so they both have to go cross eyed to look at each other. “What am I?”</p><p>“You.” Gerard kisses him on the lips.</p><p>“Are.” Gerard kisses him on the nose.</p><p>“The.” Gerard kisses his left eye.</p><p>“Most.” Gerard kisses his right eye.</p><p>“Adorable.” Gerard kisses his neck.</p><p>“Little shit.” Gerard bites his neck. Frank groans.</p><p>“But you love me, right?”</p><p>“Get in the back and make us a bed and I’ll let you know.”</p><p>Frank smirks and climbs out of the car. Five minutes and a lot of swearing later, he beckons Gerard into the back.</p><p>Gerard quickly pulls off their boots and each thumps into the footwell. They scramble between the seats to join Frank and shuffle into a comfortable position on the blankets. Frank curls around them, smoothes the palm of his hand down their dress-covered hip.</p><p>“Is this ok?” Frank asks, carefully searching Gerard’s eyes for any flicker of fear or uncertainty. But he is met with warmth, their gentle smile crinkling around their eyes, their green-brown pupils glowing in the early evening sunlight.</p><p>“Sure Frankie,” they breathe.</p><p>“Just tell me if it gets too much.”</p><p>“Ok sweetie.” Gerard nuzzles into Frank’s neck and begins to kiss and lick and nibble at the Jinx Removing scissors there.</p><p>Frank moans and wriggles his body closer into Gerard’s side, grunting sweetly as his semi rubs against Gerard’s thigh.</p><p>Gerard’s hair is tangled behind his ear so Frank smoothes it, straightens out the braid, secures the flowers that had started to fall out from their run earlier Then he strokes down Gerard’s hip again and over their rounded thighs.</p><p>“I love how soft this makes you,” he murmurs.</p><p>Gerard hums, stretches out a little under the heat of Frank’s gaze.</p><p>On another stroke down Gerard’s side, Frank notices a change of texture under the fabric at their hip. He runs the sensitive pad of his fingertip over it a few times and Gerard squirms. Frank glances up to see Gerard is blushing pink.</p><p>“I … I ... uh,” Gerard stammers.</p><p>“What, Gee? What are you wearing?” Frank asks softly.</p><p>“I didn’t expect we’d be doing this, honestly. I just wanted to try wearing these out.” Gerard blushes.</p><p>“Oh sweetie. Now I am intrigued. Am I allowed to see what’s under there?”</p><p>Gerard nods slowly, chewing at their lower lip with tiny sharp teeth.</p><p>Frank slides his hand down Gerard’s smooth thigh and glances up to check they are still on board. That they haven’t freaked out. Gerard’s eyes are open wide but they are not scared.</p><p>So Frank hooks his forefinger under the skater hem of their skirt and slowly draws it up Gerard’s legs.</p><p>First to be revealed is the lace at the top of Gerard’s black holdups, encircling their soft thigh.</p><p>“You’re wearing stockings,” Frank observes.</p><p>Gerard grins.</p><p>“Baby, you’re killing me already,” Frank moans.</p><p>Gerard giggles, high and sweet.</p><p>“Don’t stop,” they breathe.</p><p>Frank’s finger draws the skirt up higher, revealing red lace underwear. They are boy shorts with a broad band of lace across their soft hips. The pattern is delicate, open in places revealing Gerard’s milk-white skin and dark curling hair. And they barely cover their cock, which is a hard line, pressed obscenely against the lace, the wet tip already making a blood-red patch on the vivid fabric.</p><p>Frank feels heat grow in his gut, his dick twitching. He is filled with a desire to lick Gerard’s cock where it is, to make the lace soaking wet from both sides, with his saliva and their pre-come.</p><p>He must be drooling because Gerard reaches out a fingertip and brushes it away.</p><p>“You are allowed to touch, Frankie,” they whisper.</p><p>“I don’t … I …” It is very unusual for Frank to be speechless. He usually has some cheeky remark just waiting to roll out. He has had to learn with Gerard how to stop and check to make sure he isn’t accidentally hurtful. But this isn’t about this. He is just overwhelmed. By the love he feels for Gerard, how far they have come in being so fully themselves, how fearless and beautiful. And just how fucking hot that is. He shakes his head, tries to shake free of the fog so he can just feel.</p><p>“Frankie. Are you ok?” Gerard’s voice has gone quiet, tentative.</p><p>“Sorry. Just a little overwhelmed. Can I touch you?” He inclines his head towards Gerard’s crotch.</p><p>Gerard giggles. “That is kinda the point, Frankie. C’mon. This isn’t like you.”</p><p>Frank blushes. He never blushes. But right now he really doesn’t know what to do. So he decides the best thing he can do is to stop trying to talk.</p><p>He gently pushes Gerard onto their back, opens their legs and wriggles between them. He smoothes down their stockinged thighs, across the lace at the top. The slight roughness makes him grunt, deep in his throat and Gerard giggles. He plants a kiss right at the front of Gerard’s straining underwear and smiles when Gerard’s cock twitches. He presses his face to the lace and breathes in the musky scent.</p><p>Then he touches the lace with the flat of his tongue, under their balls. Curls his tongue and closes his eyes so he can focus on feeling their soft weight. He presses in a little to feel them give. Then he parts his lips and mouths at them, sucking one gently into his mouth. Gerard’s thighs open wider and push at Frank’s face. He can feel urgency and a little desperation in their twitching tension.</p><p>Then Frank mouths at Gerard’s lace-covered cock. He slides his open lips across its hard, hot length and grips it from the side, mouth stretched tight. Saliva begins to pool in his mouth from the sensation and the overwhelming warm, musky smell of them, so he releases their dick and begins to lick wetly upwards, lapping like a cat. He can hear little squeaks and breathy “ah” sounds coming from Gerard, then their hands land in his hair. Their long fingers comb through then grip onto the remaining longer blond strands. Frank is glad he left them when he trimmed the rest of the blond off.</p><p>Frank licks and nuzzles at Gerard’s panties until they are wet and rough on his cheek as he rubs across their firm dick.</p><p>“Please,” Gerard mutters.</p><p>“What do you want, Gee?”</p><p>“Just … please.”</p><p>“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Gee.”</p><p>“Stop teasing me, Frankie,” they plead.</p><p>“Ok sweetie. Let me just …” Frank tugs at the lace a little, just enough for the tip of Gerard’s dick to poke out above the lace. He wants to preserve the look of those panties for as long as possible as they are totally doing things for him.</p><p>It’s not that he doesn’t find pretty things attractive, seriously, he thinks, look at Gerard. That has never been an issue for Frank. It’s just he’s always tended to assume he was up the really almost gay end of the Kinsey scale. But everything Gerard’s done, every way they have explored what gender means for them, especially feminine presentation, has just made Frank’s little bisexual heart pound. Like he never knew how much this, whoever Gerard is, could just keep getting more and more someone he just wants. And a little voice in his head appears sometimes, in the shower, late at night maybe and says, what would you have done if this had never happened. What would you have missed if Gerard wasn’t who they are? And then he has to shut himself up. Because this isn’t about him. It’s Gerard getting to be Gerard. And Frank is just fucking lucky because he had no idea how much he would love or want who they really are. Honestly it would be enough to make him cry if Gerard weren’t lying there, dress rumpled around their waist, stockinged thighs spread, erect cock emerging from the prettiest, wettest lace panties Frank has ever seen.</p><p>And Gerard is smirking.</p><p>Because Frank said all of that aloud. And he might just actually be crying. Just a little bit.</p><p>“Oh Frankie,” Gerard grins. And Frank smiles, all soft and wobbly.</p><p>“Oh fuck. I spoiled the mood,” he sniffs.</p><p>“No, you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. How could you? That was the sweetest thing I ever heard. And in case you wondered, I couldn’t feel luckier too.”</p><p>“Uh? How?” Frank rests his face on Gerard’s thigh.</p><p>“Frank. Sweetie. Do you think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been doing? Do you think I am so lost in myself that I don’t know how much space you have made for me? I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to be alongside me during all this. I don’t think I have ever felt so loved before. I …” Gerard gulps.</p><p>Frank smiles. Gerard has tears pouring down their cheeks so he clambers upwards and folds Gerard into his arms. They bury sobs and tears into each other’s necks.</p><p>“I’m getting you all wet,” Gerard gulps as he tries to wipe salty tears off Frank’s t-shirt.</p><p>“And I crumpled all your flowers,” Frank squeaks, trying to smooth Gerard’s braid back into place again.</p><p>“I don’t mind. Really I don’t.” Gerard carefully peels tiny flowers off Frank’s cheek and forehead. “You are welcome to do my hair again anytime.”</p><p>“You love it. All the attention.”</p><p>Gerard just smirks.</p><p>“You do! I mean I know that. It’s not like I have forgotten who you are, who you’ve been. But you …”</p><p>“Frankie,” Gerard interrupts.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Shut up,” Gerard says, low. “You brought me here for something, I think?”</p><p>And they push on Frank’s shoulders. It takes a moment for him to get the message. It is the dark look in Gerard’s eyes that gives it away.</p><p>When Frank nuzzles at Gerard’s panties again, their dick is softer. Frank kisses it softly through the lace and he can feel Gerard relaxing.</p><p>He hums thoughtfully then reaches behind him into a side pocket to rummage around until he can find the lube. He places it beside Gerard’s soft ass and then carefully tugs their panties down their thighs and off their stockinged feet.</p><p>“I thought you wanted to keep those on?” they murmur.</p><p>“I’ve got another plan,” Frank shrugs and Gerard smiles.</p><p>Frank squeezes a large dollop of lube onto his fingers and wriggles them until they are covered in cool goo. He shifts Gerard’s hips until they are where he wants them, tilted, knees splayed. Then he slides his slick fingers from Gerard’s asscheeks up across their hole, up under their balls and up the groove between their thigh and crotch. He deliberately does not touch their cock, even though it is harder now, red and curving towards their belly.</p><p>He rubs his fingers through the groove, flicks a little at the top of the stroke, digs into the wetness of sweat-slick and lube. He feels Gerard stretch, arch their back and rock their hips to grind down onto his busy fingers. Every so often he dips his hand deep, then pulls his wriggling fingers back up, sliding up under their balls and back up through the groove alongside Gerard’s cock. Then, when his hand comes up again, he stops to rub at the sensitive tendons under their balls. Rubs circles into it with the soft pad of their thumb.</p><p>And they moan and shudder.</p><p>Frank squeezes more lube onto his fingers, rolls his slippery fingers around in the space behind Gerard’s balls. Then he probes firmly lower.</p><p>He glances up at Gerard’s face to check they are ok. Their eyes are closed, head back so their pale throat is exposed, lips parted, pink and wet, strands of long brown hair clinging damply to their cheeks and shoulders. He hasn’t seen them quite so ecstatic, quite so lost in sensation, for a long time. So Frank figures it’s ok to proceed. But because his mother raised him well, he checks anyway.</p><p>“This ok, sweetie?”</p><p>He gets a croaked “yes … please … fuck” in response.</p><p>So his fingers continue. He presses his index finger deep, slow so Gerard can shift and adjust so the slide is smooth. Then Frank changes to his middle finger, pushes deeper, slides slow, in and out. Fucks Gerard on his finger and they whimper. Curls and shudders and shakes and breathes out “fuck” desperately with each push, like there is no other thought in their head. Pushes out their arms to grip mindlessly at air. Draws in ragged breaths and holds it deep in their chest, eyes screwed shut. Frank shuffles up along their side, nuzzles into their chest where the softness of their bra reaches a peak and they wail, just fucking <em>keen</em>. Until a wave of tension convulses their body and they fall back, limp and boneless like a rag doll.</p><p>Frank looks down and expects to see come splattered across their belly. But there’s nothing. Gerard’s cock is still hard, dripping.</p><p>What the actual fuck.</p><p>“Gee?”</p><p>“Uh?” Gerard replies, intelligently.</p><p>“You … uh,”</p><p>“What? Quit messing with my afterglow,” they mutter.</p><p>“Uh. That’s exactly it. You … uh…”</p><p>Gerard props themselves up on their elbows with a slightly pissy expression and then raise an eyebrow.</p><p>“Well that’s never happened before,” they comment wryly.</p><p>Frank nods towards Gerard’s erect cock. “You want any help with that?”</p><p>“No. I’m fine. Just c’mere.”</p><p>They open their arms and draw Frank into a soft, sweaty hug. Tangle themselves up in limbs and clothes and blankets. As their breathing slows, Frank begins to think.</p><p>“That was like…”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“You need anything, Frankie?”</p><p>“Nah.”</p><p>They are both quiet for a little while. The car is warm, silent. Nothing is visible outside through the steamed and tinted windows. It’s like they are existing in a bubble outside of space and time.</p><p>“That seemed like a lot. Are you ok?”</p><p>“Yeah. Never better.”</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>There is silence again.</p><p>“Fuck. I really need another iced coffee.”</p><p>“That is a fucking excellent idea. You ok to drive, Gee? I can if you’d prefer.”</p><p>“Go on. I don’t think I can coordinate anything right now.”</p><p>Gerard climbs through the car and flops into the passenger seat. They don’t bother to retrieve their boots and panties, just curl up in the seat, content and floppy like a cat in the sun.</p><p>Frank starts the engine and the car rolls quietly down the steep gravel track towards the main road and the busy day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It makes me so happy writing these two. I feel like they are just getting more content. </p><p>I have to apologise though. Even my intention not to write anything serious ends up including homophobia/transphobia. I had a similar experience out walking with my partner recently in the sunshine - not as bad as this, but enough to make me wonder how they might react when their protected private space puts them out in the world again. </p><p>Get vaccinated when you can, people, so we can go to MCR’s 2022 tour dates.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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